His hand shifted again. "The third is Archivalt. He works as a programmer." And finally, "The fourth Gage. He's in the military."
Each introduction was concise and controlled, but there was an underlying weight to his words, as if he were carefully constructing something fragile, piece by piece, hoping it wouldn't collapse before it had the chance to stand.
As Apollo spoke, he guided his brothers forward one by one with a firm hand on their shoulders, presenting them with an ease that bordered on casual authority, as if their weight meant nothing under his grip.
None of them resisted. They simply allowed it, their expressions unchanged, as though this was a dynamic long familiar to them, something ingrained from years of growing up without a mother, where his presence had quietly taken on that role, even if his methods were sometimes rough around the edges.
But when he turned to the woman standing slightly apart, that roughness softened.
